


wake me up when it’s all over

by orphan_account



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Not Beta Read, Selectively Mute Link, i have! no clue what! i’m doing!, selective mutism, sort of a countdown to countdown au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21975589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: he reaches down, fingers brushing slightly against wet sand, and he grabs two of the red jewels – he thinks they have names, but he can’t recall them right now – and yanks his arm out. blue lingers against his skin, which he reaches up and brushes his fingers against. this only causes it to spread to the tips of his fingers. the texture makes him grimace.((or : a countdown to countdown au ))
Kudos: 5





	wake me up when it’s all over

**Author's Note:**

> cw for: blood ; splinters ; fire

_settle down, it’ll all be clear. don’t pay no mind to the demons,_

_they fill you with fear._

there’s an old, cracked box. it’s at the top of the kitchen cupboard, shoved deeply in the back, behind cans of green beans and a box of instant mashed potatoes. it’s long since collected dust, and link – at the ripe age of five years old – gets an idea with it.

he moves a stool in the kitchen – one that his mother sits on while she’s peeling potatoes and humming gently under her breath – and balances his weight on it. he climbs up on top of it, and makes an attempt to grab the steel, crack-covered box. the only thing he accomplishes is getting a splinter, slipping on it, and his mother’s panicked voice.

she frowns as she takes his small hand in her warm, sun-kissed, freckled one. much larger than his and covered in old scars that, sometimes, he traces, but never asks about. 

“you have to be careful,” she scolds, voice silky, like velvet and red wine. “age makes many things dangerous, my dear. you never know if it’ll be safe.” she presses a rag to his nose, blood soon blossoming through the white fabric. 

you never know if you’ll be safe.

link wants to protest, but he opens his mouth and – still, no matter how hard he tries – all that comes out is a soft, albeit weak croak. he wants to say so many things. wants to say that he’ll be fine, he should be free to explore the house as he wishes.

she plucks the splinter – lodged in fairly deep – out of his finger. then, at the smallest sighs of blood, she quickly puts a bandaid over it. her face looks a bit paler, red-stained lips pressed together into a thin line. he wants to ask what’s wrong. with both him – because he can’t feel pain, even though he should – and wants to ask what’s wrong with her – because she looks panicked now.

she shifts her head, heterochromatic eyes flashing at the covered window, and turns back to him.

“ypu should go back to your room,” she says, voice cracking. her hands close around his small, paler ones. “please, link.” 

he wants to complain, but, through her panicked look, blue and brown eyes are like hard steel. so, link turns his expression meek – although he’s not sure if he’s doing it correctly – and avoids looking directly in her eyes. he pulls his hands away – the bandages aren’t as itchy as they used to be, after link had silently cried about it – and walks away.

* * *

_ and if the night is burning, I shall cover my eyes. _

one thing that link adores, that the divine mother hasn’t taken from him yet, is painting. the white room he usually resides in is covered, wall to wall, with paint-coated canvases. 

he’s sitting on a stool right now, a thin paint brush tucked between thin, freckled fingers. bright blue eyes blink towards the dark-skinned woman on the thin material of the canvas. sun-kissed skin of the woman has splotches of pigmentation gracing her appearance, yet her face seems to be scribbled out. disporportinate. next to her is a painting of a blonde woman, hair cut short and down to her shoulders, curling. her face seems to be in a very similar state.

link rubs at his face, however the action only gets the paint to smear against his skin. he opens his mouth, then, weak and rough from misuse, he lets out a broken whisper of, “who are you two?” 

why does he feel like he should remember them?

why? 

he shakes his head, tucks blonde hair behind his ear, and washes off his paint brush. he turns the newer canvases around with a small grimace, not wanting to see them at the minute.

he does, after all, have somewhere to be.

so he stands up, and exits his room – shutting the door safely behind him – and starts to wander the halls. into the great room – where two people are talking, however falter slightly when he passes – and into the room where he’s supposed to be in. the room mainly used for testing.

a frown passes his lips, and he enters, soon sitting down in the seat. a painting faces him. cool blues, seemingly underwater, with a detailed castle showing above the water. some jewels – silver, red, blue - lay at the bottom, as well as a shiny, pearl necklace.

a warm voice greets him through the speakers. “hello, link.” a pause, some shuffling of papers. 

“are you ready to begin today?” at the small nod that he gives, accompanied by link swallowing the lump in his throat, the speaker – she? he? they? – continue on. “great! okay. do you see the jewels? in the sand?”

another nod, more firmer this time. “alright. I want you to grab one of those for me. do you think you can do that?” he hesitates. “it doesn’t matter what color. although, I’d appreciate it if you pushed yourself a little bit, okay?”

link hesitantly reaches a hand out to the painting, fingers sinking in, and suddenly hitting ice cold water, like the tips of his fingers have been thrust into the salty ocean. it’s almost enough to make him flinch back. however, he continues, and goes until he’s elbvow deep into the painting.

he reaches down, fingers brushing slightly against wet sand, and he grabs two of the red jewels – he thinks they have names, but he can’t recall them right now – and yanks his arm out. blue lingers against his skin, which he reaches up and brushes his fingers against. this only causes it to spread to the tips of his fingers. the texture makes him grimance.

“good job.” at the warm praise, he practically beams. “alright. you see the necklace?” a small nod. “do you think you’re able to reach that for me?” 

without any real hesitation, link reaches in once more.

* * *

he’s not entirely sure what happens, really, but suddenly there’s silent scream that rips itself from his mouth, bright flames licking his skin, which he’s tempted to scratch off. and, just as suddenly, he’s being pulled away, a pale woman with a sour expression checking his wounds.

her red eyes bore into him, and she merely says, “you’re free to leave, link. I believe we should conclude our session for today, anyways.”

this fills him with a bitter disappointment, but he turns and walks out anyways, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. he’s still dripping wet from his torso up, and seeing a note that says _**DAYS SINCE LINK HYLIA HAS HAD AN ACCIDENT: 0**_ attached to his door doesn’t help.

bitterly, he rips it away and storms in, flopping onto his bed and crumpling the paper up.

_assholes_ , he thinks, and he – like almost every training session before this – cries himself to a sleep filled with soft hums from a faceless woman, and the lick of flames.

**Author's Note:**

> posting this before i have my second thoughts smh lmao. its not too good but w/e lol


End file.
